


a little bit of you (a little bit of heaven)

by weonderlust



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: (seungcheol is only mentioned), Alternate Universe - Angels and Demons, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, idk how it got this long, it’s an angel au what do u expect, lol no demons tho, mentions of stuff like heaven??, there’s character death but only minor don’t worry children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 08:38:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8660155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weonderlust/pseuds/weonderlust
Summary: Soonyoung kisses him and Jihoon’s lungs feel like hellfire but it feels good—he tastes so, so good and he wants more.





	

**Author's Note:**

> aliah you waited so long for this but i’m sorry this isn’t good :-(
> 
> i’m not really satisfied with how this turned out so i’ll probably re-edit it in the nearby future. for now, have this

There are worlds, different worlds—Heaven, Hell, whatever happened before, whatever happens next—and times where everything, anything, nothing collide.

He wants to ask about it but knowledge is a powerful weapon, and Jihoon decides to let his unanswered questions stay unanswered.

There is a time where the juxtapositions of good and bad exists, living together, breathing in each other, scratching each other on the back to balance both peace and chaos. _That_ , that time exists in another plane of existence, Earth, as the humans call it.

That time is called life.

And life is cruel, Jihoon notes as he watches the family unravel in front of him. They—the parents—can’t see him but the little boy can. He doesn’t think much of it, the little boy would forget about him and what will happen in a few years.

“They’re fighting again,” he says, soft and gentle as his wings brushes against the walls of the small hallway.

The little boy only nods in agreement, careful not to make a sound and only stares at his parents shout at each other, pointing and jabbing fingers in each other’s faces. He doesn’t bother closing his eyes or covering his ears—these things, _these_ kinds of things are what he sees and hear every day but it’s not normal. Jihoon knows it isn’t.

Jihoon looks at the wall clock and decides it’s late. He pats the boy’s back, smiling but the guilty feeling washing over him, making his heart race as he saunters to the living room to where the little boy’s grandmother is.

She’s sleeping and Jihoon fiddles with his fingers. At least, she’ll die peacefully in her sleep. That would lessen the burdens of the family, right?

The boy walks into the living room and looks at Jihoon. There is no fear in his eyes, he knows what Jihoon is, knows what he’s about to do.

“It’s time for her to go, right?” the little boy asks, the tone he uses—a little bit of hesitation but a whole lot of curiosity.

Jihoon nods, can’t seem a reason to lie. “Yes.”

“O-Okay,” the boy stutters, lips quivering. “Take good care of her.”

“I will.”

And the little boy watches as she breathes her last breath.

He cries, face buried in his palms. Of course, he does. Humans seem to do that—cry when their loved one’s soul gets reaped.

Jihoon doesn’t understand.

(He wants to understand.)

The little boy’s parents, hearing their son’s cries, runs into the living room and the father looks around, eyes stopping at his lifeless mother on the sofa. When he holds her hand, he realizes he is not touching a person with a beating heart anymore.

Jihoon watches from the corner, a life cupped between his hands. It’s dark and grey in the middle but overall, it’s sunset golden and he’s glad she lived a good life.

 

 

 

 

 

The little boy does not cry at his grandmother’s funeral and when asked why, he smiles melancholy, and answers, “The angel of death is nice.”

 

 

 

 

 

The world is strange but humans are stranger.

They say I love you in so, _so_ many ways, Jihoon had lost count. From kisses and hugs that tugs at the strings of the heart to just the little things like _Have you eaten? Did you take your meds today? I remembered you’re allergic to pepper so I didn’t add any. Don’t forget to wear your seatbelt!_

They bring flowers to congratulate someone but they also bring flowers to those that had left Earth, indicating they still remember and they still care and Jihoon finds that amazing. They always have a shoulder to cry on and they get down on one knee to ask them to spend their life together. They dance and kiss in the rain and they write about so many things and it’s all beautiful.

Humans are lovable.

But humans are so cruel, too.

They say I hate you in many ways, too. From violent words that makes others feel ugly— _bitch, useless, stupid_ —to just the little things like lying to others, making the others feel so fucking insignificant and not thinking of those that lives in harsh conditions.

They’re ungrateful and selfish and it’s all ugly.

 

 

 

 

 

Soonyoung hears the conversation between his mother and the doctor outside the hospital room he was assigned to.

Not really—the door is closed tight but he knows his current condition and what is going to come. He doesn’t need the doctor or his mother breaking the news for him, it’s easy to guess.

 _I’m dying_ , he thinks bitterly. Bitter, but not angry. Never angry. What’s the point, anyways?

_Your son is in a critical condition/we’ve done all we could/it’s too risky to put him in that situation /I’m sorry/your son’s immune system is too weak/his body is rejecting everything/I think it is time/what if I pay more?/is there a hospital abroad that we can take him too?/it is for the best—_

“You’re thinking too much.”

Soonyoung flinches, eyes darting to the figure sitting on the sofa.

“You scared me,” he sighs in relief, “How long have you’ve been sitting there? Didn’t see you coming in.”

“Neither did your mother or the doctor.”

Soonyoung takes caution. “Who are you?”

“I thought you would know by now,” the boy rolls his eyes, “Guess, then.”

“You want me… to guess?”

The figure nods and Soonyoung furrows his eyebrows, already in the process of thinking of possible answers when his mind blanks and his mouth speaks for him.

“You’re… here to take my soul,” Soonyoung says it sadly, “My time is already up?”

The figure nods again.

“That… that was fast. I’m only 21. I— I have so much to do, I haven’t even seen the world and _yet_ , here you are.”

He finishes the last word dejectedly. He shouldn’t be surprised. Everyone knows life moves too quick, a blink of an eye, the speed of a falling star. But Soonyoung is young, a troubled youth with big dreams and mistakes that needs to be corrected. It’s not fair—he needs more time. Even just a little.

“Orders are orders,” the other walks over to the side of his bed. His wings too big it drags on the ground. Soonyoung watches in awe. “I’m Jihoon, by the way.”

The angel doesn’t know why he would tell his name. It’s pointless. He is here to reap this human’s soul, why expect him to remember a name?

But this soul... there’s a glint of hellfire in his eyes. Maybe it’s because he never noticed other humans’ eyes but the way he looks at the angel makes Jihoon feels bothered but so _tempted_ to learn more about this one.

“Your wings… they’re beautiful, and your name sounds pretty, too.”

The comment snaps him out of his thoughts. “Flattery won’t save you.”

“It’s the truth,” Soonyoung smiles and it disappears the moment it comes. “Does getting my soul reaped out hurt?”

“Most people would wish for it to be as painless as possible.”

“People get wishes?”

“Angels of death grants the human one wish before collecting their life,” Jihoon explains. “It’s kind of like a compensation.”

Soonyoung snorts. “Compensate for what?”

“Death. Loosing life.”

The room turns cold and it’s quiet after that until Jihoon clears his throat. “What’s your wish?”

“Too live longer,” he answers. No hesitation.

Jihoon is an angel of death, not a miracle worker. Not someone who gives hope and new life. He reaps soul, takes life, golden and bright but sometimes dark and grey. He is not supposed to grant that kind of wish, that is not something he decides and yet—

“Okay.”

Soonyoung doesn’t ask why or how that is possible (doesn’t find a reason to do so) and he smiles, laughs and mutters a soft _Thank you_ and for the first time in forever, Jihoon breaks a rule for a human that was supposed to die that day.

 

 

 

 

 

The angel doesn’t have anywhere to go after that. He can’t go back to Heaven, he has a mission he has yet to complete. Seungcheol would be furious, would punish him to eternal damnation, to years in hell. He can’t go through that.

So Jihoon stays on Earth with the human with the soul that was initially needed to be collected. He stays for a few weeks and it goes well until Soonyoung asks why over dinner.

“Why are you still here with me? I mean— I’m not being rude or anything. Just wondering.”

“Humans are interesting to watch,” It’s not entirely a lie. Humans _are_ interesting to watch but that is not the answer to Soonyoung’s question. He still lies through his teeth and he realizes he broke another rule.

Soonyoung thinks for a moment. “So I’m like an experiment?”

“Yes,” he lies again and he can feel the weight of the lie on his shoulders. Heavy and burdening.

“That’s cool. Pass me the chopsticks.”

Dinner is silent that night.

 

 

 

 

 

They don’t hang out because that is what friends do and Jihoon is sure that Soonyoung and he are not friends.

So when they bumped into each other in the hospital, it’s a little bit surprising.

“Oh, hey, Jihoon. Sorry, didn’t see you there.”

Jihoon waves his hand. “It’s fine. What are you doing here?”

“Visiting a friend. You?”

“Same, sort of.”

“I’ll see you later, then.”

Soonyoung walks down the corridor and when he is out of sight, a cold breeze touches his cheeks.

Joshua is scary, he thinks. Scary in the way he shows up bright and otherworldly but it’s just a façade because underneath all that, he is merciless and cold, taking souls with no sense of pity, fast and clean.

Ah, but aren’t angels of death not supposed to feel pity?

“I believe that soul’s time is up.”

Joshua smiles but it doesn’t feel friendly. It is malevolent. Joshua is a walking paradox of the phrase, the _name_ Angel of Death itself.

“It is not,” Jihoon retaliates defensively. He’s trying to control his front because he can’t let him know that he broke rules.

Joshua puts his hands up. “Just making an observation.”

“More like telling a lie.”

Jihoon gulps and asks himself why the hell is he so fucking defensive of Soonyoung when he is merely just a human?

He decides to change the subject before Joshua could say something. “What are you doing here, anyways?”

“What else do death angels do?”

Angels of death. Death angels. They’re of the same sort and yet, they sound so different.

“Ah, right,” Jihoon says dumbly.

“Has staying too long on Earth made you forget?” Joshua asks but its tease and Jihoon purses his lips. He thinks twice before answering because this is Joshua and Joshua reports everything to Seungcheol. Tattle tale.

But before Jihoon could even muster a word, Joshua smiles once again before turning around. “I have to go. Bye, Jihoon.”

When he thinks the other is really gone, he drops to the ground and clenches his fist around his head. His wings are shaking and he’s _so_ scared.

“Jihoon?” he would lie if he said hearing Soonyoung call his name didn’t calm him.

The next thing the angel knows is that he’s being pulled by the wrist and shoved into Soonyoung’s chest and he cries.

“You’ll be okay.”

Jihoon likes how Soonyoung doesn’t ask if he’s okay, opting to assure him that he’ll be okay instead.

 

 

 

 

 

When Jihoon goes into Seokmin’s hospital room (because Soonyoung wants to introduce him to his best friend) and feels the cold breeze he is very well familiar of, his knees trembles and he clutches onto Soonyoung’s hand, gripping it tight.

(I’m scared.)

If Soonyoung notices, he doesn’t say anything.

 

 

 

 

 

Jihoon meets Joshua the next day and anger bubbles up in his throat.

“You’re taking Seokmin’s life. Aren’t you?” he asks and he can feel the tears stinging but he blinks it away because angels cannot cry. He has broken too much rules already. “You can’t. It is not his time yet. Soonyoung—”

_would be devastated. Fucking heart broken._

“Jihoon befriending humans. Not surprising. You have always taken an interest in humans. Ever since you talked to that little boy a long time ago.”

There’s that teasing tone again and Jihoon feels a twist in his guts.

“Why are you bringing this up?”

Joshua rolls his neck, tired. “Let’s just say, his soul is assigned to me.”

Realization dawns on Jihoon and fear crawls along his spine. His wings start shaking again and his knees are on the verge of giving up but he tries to keep his stand, his façade, his control because Soonyoung is not here to comfort him. He can go find Soonyoung later.

Right now, he is alone.

“It is not his time, yet.”

“That is not something you decide.”

Joshua can see how the other is feverishly shaking and his face softens. Jihoon is still a friend even if Jihoon says he isn’t.

“Hey,” he starts, “I’ll take good care of him, okay?”

Jihoon can’t fight back, can’t say anything else.

“Promise?” he hates how his voice cracks. It shows fear. Jihoon doesn’t like being afraid.

“Promise.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

The following week, Soonyoung comes home with news of his best friend’s death.

“I’m sorry,” is all Jihoon could say. He doesn’t know what to do, what to say. There’s a loud clap of thunder. The sky is dark and it’s going to rain.

Soonyoung tries for a smile and it puts Jihoon in pain instead. “Don’t be. He’s in a better place.”

At that, Jihoon doesn’t say anything at all.

He wants to close his eyes, take a glimpse of heaven and assure him that _Yes, Seokmin is in Heaven because he deserves to be there_ but he can’t.

Heaven is just locked up gates and blur lines to him now.

(For the first time in his immortal life, Jihoon feels guilty of taking someone’s life, and it wasn’t even his doing.)

 

 

 

 

 

“That’s not… a cigarette.”

Jihoon has been on Earth for almost a year. He knows the smell of cigarette, the taste of alcohol, the pain and sadness humans feel.

Sins. Devil’s tricks.

“It’s not,” Soonyoung says.

Jihoon doesn’t like the smell. He likes Soonyoung’s smell but sometimes he does this and the smell sticks on him, his clothes, the bed. It’s a reminder.

The angel hums and Soonyoung looks at him.

“It’s a Sunday.”

“Is it?” Jihoon takes a deep breath then coughs twice. Soonyoung throws the stick on the ground, stepping on it and waits for Jihoon to continue. “I’m not used to counting days and nights. I never did it, in fact.”

“Why do humans do it, then?” Soonyoung leans in and Jihoon can still smell that aroma.

Jihoon turns around and they’re chest to chest. Sometimes, he forgets to breathe and his heart beats harder in his chest. His wings shake, they get lighter but he doesn’t mind, doesn’t care. It’s just Soonyoung, Soonyoung, Soonyoung.

“You’re asking an angel.”

“I know,” Soonyoung looks away again to watch the sun sets just in time and Jihoon ignores the disappointed feeling that he pulled away just before Jihoon could bury his face in his chest. “But even humans don’t have answers to every questions.”

Jihoon blinks. “Questions kill.”

“And answers bury you six feet underground,” Soonyoung finishes.

“Smart boy,” the angel giggles mischievously.

He takes a deep breath—suddenly wanting that smell again. Suddenly wanting to try.

(Soonyoung won’t let him.)

“Why do you think humans count their days?” the angel asks. The stars are out. He does not know how long they’ve been standing out in the balcony.

“Simple, we don’t last long,” Soonyoung knows the answer but he asks and Jihoon hates it. Questions kill and answers bury you six feet underground. “We all run out of time.”

Jihoon’s wings feels lighter. It doesn’t feel like it’s dragging on the ground anymore.

The angel looks at Soonyoung. It’s a warning, he knows it, but Jihoon laughs instead.

Everyone runs out of time, better make the most of it.

 

 

 

 

 

It’s three months later that Jihoon feels so much heavier on his feet, and if he felt his wings were lighter then, it’s butterfly wings now.

Once, he almost trips but Soonyoung is fast to catch him, all smiles and shiny eyes.

“Gravity pulling you down?” Soonyoung doesn’t mean it like that, he knows it’s a joke, but it doesn’t stop the anxiety from bubbling up in Jihoon’s throat, making him unable to form any replies to that.

Soonyoung senses the uneasy feeling. “Sorry, did I offend you?”

“No, no, you didn’t. It,” _fucking scared me_ , “didn’t.”

 

 

 

 

 

“What is heaven?” Soonyoung asks one night when they’re out in the balcony but he isn’t smoking anything and Jihoon’s left wing is barely keeping him balanced.

At first, he blanks. He tries to think of an answer that distracts Soonyoung because Jihoon isn’t allowed to say what goes on in Heaven.

But he can’t see what goes on in Heaven and angels sometimes play, too.

“Heaven is a place where nothing happens.”

 

 

(Soonyoung greets the moon and stars every night and Jihoon asks why. Soonyoung says that when they greet, you have to greet them back, too—and Jihoon is reminded of the fact that stars can’t be seen from Heaven.)

 

 

 

 

 

It’s Winter and the cold is biting Jihoon to the numb. He should be used to it, be used to the weather changes on Earth but as he watches the first snow falls, he thinks _oh_ , it wasn’t that long since he abandoned Heaven for a soul who’s life he has yet taken.

Angels don’t get cold. They don’t feel cold.

But can he still call himself that?

Angel of Death.

Death Angel.

Soul Reaper.

The names feels bitter and heavy on his tongue. For a moment, he thinks how lovely it would be if he weren’t called that, if he weren’t anchored to his immortality.

“Hey, your wings are going to get frozen, close that window.”

Jihoon exhales, takes a last glance of the city he has become familiar of and turns around, closing the window. Soonyoung is placing a tray with two mugs and he smiles. Soonyoung always makes him smile, never failing to get a soft laugh, a giggle from Jihoon.

“Here’s a blanket.”

“Thank you,” Jihoon takes it, his hands already feeling warm after hours of sitting in front of the window. “It’s warm.”

“Are you worried?” Soonyoung asks and he sits down next to Jihoon, and the angel tries so hard not to bask in his warmth.

Instead he asks, “Worried about what?”

“Your wings. Your feathers are falling. They’re scattered around the apartment, too.”

“Ah,” Jihoon says, tries to cover up the fear in his eyes and swallow the lump in his throat. Jihoon pretends that whatever is unfolding stays that way. He laughs nervously, “Guess it’s just really cold.”

It’s too cold.

“Is Heaven warm, then?”

Jihoon shivers at the mention of it. “I’m not sure, anymore. It feels like there is no difference.”

Soonyoung stares at the angel for a moment before handing the mug. “That’s kind of sad. Do you like chocolate milk?”

The supposedly sugary drink tastes bitter.

Jihoon lies and he hates lying. He hates how he just told Soonyoung that the reason why his feathers are falling is because of the harsh winter when it’s definitely not. Oh, no, it’s not.

Angels don’t get cold. They don’t feel cold.

 

 

At the end of every day, where it’s dark at night and the stars are singing, he tries to look for Heaven. He tries, but always, always fails.

By the 17th night, he is not surprised anymore.

 

 

 

 

 

In the one year Jihoon has been on this forsaken planet, he has learned a lot of things.

That Soonyoung has been dancing since he was little. That he is an amazing singer, too and because of that he is a performance major at the university he is attending. That he does a little dance every time he makes breakfast and when he cleans up. That he’s fluent in Japanese and works as part time tutor, too. That he has dyed his hair four times in his whole life. That he has a scar on his back and that Jihoon loves drawing constellations on it. That he hides many secrets, committed a lot of sins. That he smokes because he loves the taste of bittersweet tragedies. That there is love in the way he speaks, in his eyes and more in the way he expresses himself with his body. That—

Oh.

Maybe Jihoon learned a lot of things Soonyoung instead.

 

 

 

 

 

“Do angels love thinking deeply so much?” Soonyoung puffs out an air after inhaling the cigarette stick and Jihoon fans it away.

“Yes, we do.”

Soonyoung inhales again. “What do you think about?”

Jihoon wants to answer, wants to say _you, because of you, I learned that the human life is worth so much_ , but he shakes his head and asks instead, “Did you ever thought of stopping?” He motions to the cigarette stick in between Soonyoung’s fingers.

The angel waits for an answer and when Soonyoung finally glances at him, his heart beats faster, “If I ever find something that tastes better.”

 

 

 

 

 

Jihoon’s world comes crashing down one night when he sees Soonyoung gazing at the stars in his bedroom. His habit, Jihoon notes. Soonyoung is smoking again. His addiction, Jihoon remembers.

The angel stays at the doorway for a few seconds before knocking on the door, slightly.

Soonyoung turns to look at him, an unreadable expression and Jihoon blanches.

“You’re in love with me,” he says. It’s not a question, it’s a statement. Jihoon’s heart stops for a millisecond and his lungs clenches.

“I am,” he finally says. There’s no point in lying now. “I’m sorry.”

He waits. Soonyoung stands there before throwing out his cigarette and the angel doesn’t realize he’s walking towards him until they meet eye to eye and Jihoon whimpers.

“Angels,” the human starts, a frown on his face and Jihoon wants to wipe it away with a kiss (if only he knew what the punishment is for even thinking about that), “aren’t supposed to fall in love.”

Jihoon furrows his eyebrows. Does Soonyoung really think he’s not aware? An angel whose only mission is to reap souls—not break rules and fall for a mere human who commit sins (because that is what they do)—does Soonyoung really think he’s not aware of that?

He stays silent.

Then he speaks, “I know.”

“You _know_! You know you weren’t supposed to fall for a human and yet, here you are! At first, I wondered why the hell would an immortal creature stay on this shit place called Earth but, God, if only I knew earlier. If only I saw the signs before. God, Jihoon, you—”

“Don’t shout at me!” Jihoon retaliates. He doesn’t cry, never did, promised to never so but tears are streaming down his face right now because it _hurts_. “Don’t shout at me like I didn’t know that. I knew, okay. I fucking knew the moment you smiled in that suffocating hospital room of yours. The moment my wings started being lighter and my feathers started falling off. The moment I realized gravity was pulling me down like _chains_. The moment Heaven became more blur and I turned blind to it,” his voice softens at the end and Soonyoung’s heart breaks, “I fucking knew.”

Soonyoung cups his face, unable to take sight of Jihoon crying and wipes his tears, “Then why? Jihoon, why?”

“Because I’m in love with you,” he almost whispers, the lump in his throat difficult to swallow, the unfamiliar feeling of crying is stinging, “and no force on Earth and Heaven could change that.”

“I’m a bad person and you’re an angel. Something pure, a piece of Heaven that I would taint. It’s not likely for us to be together.”

“But you want us— _this_. I want it too, Soonyoung.”

Soonyoung steps back and looks down. “I make mistakes, Jihoon.”

“We all do.”

It’s true. Humans are cruel, merciless even. They lie and lie and lie. They break promises.

But Jihoon does that, too.

(And he’s still an angel, isn’t he?)

“Angels don’t,” Soonyoung finalize, grabbing his bag on the bed.

“You’d be surprised.”

Soonyoung looks at him, that same unreadable expression on his face and sighs. “Jihoon. I make people cry and I break promises and I would break hearts. You’re bound to get sad with me.”

“I’ve been with you for a year.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Soonyoung grabs a few extra clothes, his books on the table and passes Jihoon by the doorway.

The angel grabs his arm, stopping him. “Where are you going?”

“I need… time to process everything and you need time to think. I’m staying at a friend’s house. Don’t worry, I won’t forget dinner. Good bye.”

The sound of the door closing sounds like thunderstorms booming under him when he was in Heaven and for the first time, he flinches.

Soonyoung doesn’t come home for two weeks.

 

 

 

 

 

Joshua comes in when he’s mourning over the kitchen table.

A cigarette stick, lighted but barely touched on the ashtray and the smell of alcohol lingers around the room.

Jihoon can hear the Almighty screaming from the high aboves. Weird, he thinks because until now, Heaven is still dark and black to him.

“You’re supposed to take his life. You only had to do that,” the other angel comments and helped Jihoon stand up, heading towards the living room.

Soonyoung’s living room. It smells of him and Jihoon feels like he’s dying.

“His soul was supposed to be collected a year ago,” Joshua puts him on the sofa and Jihoon sprawls across it. “And now you’re drunk and devastated.”

“I know. Just let—”

“You are breaking the rules, Jihoon.”

Jihoon looks at him. Times like these, he wishes he could bite back but Joshua is right and he hates that. “I’m the one assigned to him. I’m the one who grants him a wish, and if he wishes to live longer then so be it.”

“ _I knew it_ ,” Joshua frowns, “Humans can’t wish to live longer, you know that.”

“He did, and I certainly granted it,” he laughs drunkenly. _How long was it since I felt this free?_

“You didn’t. You simply postponed his death,” Joshua grabs his shoulders. “He can’t do that—he can’t fool death.”

“I’m death, and he fooled me good, huh? Anyways, I couldn’t take his soul. No matter what.”

Joshua clenches his fist. “You are making a mistake! If Seungcheol hears about this—”

Jihoon tries to stand but he’s too, _too_ intoxicated that he wobbles when he does. He pokes at Joshua’s chest, “Tell the Almighty above in the High Heaven that this soul isn’t ready to be taken yet.”

“That’s what you said about Seokmin.”

“You’re so fucking cruel, you know?” Jihoon glares at him when he remembers Seokmin. “He was so young.”

“Do not forget your origin, Angel of Death. You take lives too, you reap of souls and bring them to Heaven.”

“What if I don’t want to be a Death Angel anymore?”

The question comes in barrelling—quick and heavy. The atmosphere changes. Jihoon blames the intoxication but now, he’s relieved to get that off his chest. Relieved to realize that he didn’t want to be an angel of death anymore and God, does it feel good.

There’s a mix of expressions on Joshua’s face—shocked, disbelief then sadness. “You would give up something that you are created for, something that is _you_ , for a human?”

“Soonyoung isn’t _just_ a human. He’s something I didn’t expect from this cruel world.”

“All humans are the same.”

“I could say the same about angels but we both know that’s wrong,” he says a little too proudly.

Joshua stands up, heads for the door and when he grabs the door knob, he turns around and looks at Jihoon, “You’re infatuated with him.”

“What?” Jihoon is too drunk to understand what is happening but what just came out of Joshua’s mouth is something he didn’t expect.

“It’s like you tied your soul to him, and you can’t bear to take his away because that means taking away yours, too.”

He tries to stand up again but gravity is heavy and Jihoon isn’t used to it, “What are you talking about?”

“I won’t tell Seungcheol. But if he finds out, I can’t defend you.”

With that, he leaves a very confused and drunk Jihoon.

A cigarette stick, lighted but barely touched on the ashtray and the smell of alcohol lingers around the room.

 

 

 

 

 

Soonyoung comes home after what seems to be a month and Jihoon hesitates before welcoming him with an apology— _I’m sorry I said all of that. I’m sorry I burdened you with thoughts that you would taint me. I’m sorry I acted harshly and acted on my feelings. I’m sorry I took your cigarettes and drank your liquor. I’m sorry I fell in love with y—_

The angel is shoved into Soonyoung’s chest before he could finish his apology.

“Don’t apologize for being in love. Don’t. _Ever_. Promise?”

Jihoon nods and hugs him tighter because he’s scared of letting go.

“Your wings are almost non-existent,” Soonyoung comments.

“It’ll disappear.”

The angel replies just like that and Soonyoung doesn’t want to push it further.

 

 

 _Are you afraid?_ Jihoon asks.

_No. Are you?_

He nods. _A little._

 _When I was at my friend’s, I realized it’s not wrong to love. To love and to be loved—that is something humans do. They live by it_. Soonyoung says.

 

 

 

 

 

( _Do angels love?_ Soonyoung asks.

Jihoon sighs. _They do_.

_Do death angels love, too?_

_We want to_.)

 

 

 

 

 

“Kiss me?” Jihoon asks when Soonyoung is back from dance practise and has thrown himself on the sofa.

Soonyoung doesn’t look surprised at the question. “That’s a bold request.”

“I want you to kiss me.”

He leans closer. “Give me a reason, angel.”

Jihoon thinks for a moment. “I want to know the taste of sin.” _and mosaics of broken hearts and sad dreams_.

For a moment, the angel gives up because Soonyoung won’t kiss him and stands up to get himself a drink when he gets pulled back down.

Soonyoung kisses him and Jihoon’s lungs feel like hellfire but it feels good—he tastes so, _so_ good and he wants more.

But the other pulls away and Jihoon can’t help but whimper at the loss.

“How does sin taste, angel?”

The nickname brings shivers down his spine. “Addicting.”

Jihoon smiles before kissing him once again.

 

 

 

 

 

(Soonyoung stops smoking when he realizes Jihoon tastes much better.)

 

 

 

 

 

“What is love to you?”

Soonyoung looks up from his homework. Calculus is difficult and he’s glad Jihoon dragged him to a library. The angel is doodling and drawing on a blank paper, books stacked up next to him.

“Why the sudden question?”

Jihoon pats the stack on books. “I’ve read a lot of books and each one has love written in different meanings. I don’t understand.”

“Humans have different definitions of love, as you can see, so I can’t really answer that.”

“What is love to you, though?” he tilts his head, waiting for an answer and _cute_ , Soonyoung thinks.

“Love is…” Soonyoung thinks for a moment, “home. A place where you feel safe. A person that gives you a meaning in life.”

Jihoon beams. “That’s a really nice definition. I like that. I like how home is a person to you, Soonyoungie.”

He stands up to sit next to him, instead of across him and interlaces their fingers together.

(He ignores the feeling of his feathers falling. He’ll pick them up later.)

“You’re my home.”

 

 

 

 

 

The next day when Jihoon wakes up, there is no weight on Jihoon’s back. Gravity feels heavier than ever now. When he sits up from the bed, the last few of his golden feathers are scattered around his pillow and the floor.

With shaking hands, he stretches to touch his back only to meet nothing. He draws out a breath of... _relief? Sadness? Melancholy?_

His wings are gone and he’s officially locked out of Heaven.

It’s scary and he feels like running away from fear and to beg forgiveness but it’s okay. He stays.

(He wasn’t planning to fly away, anyways.)

 

 

 

 

 

Soonyoung is a person made from mosaics of broken promises and beautiful sins. Pure, but so heavily tainted.

But that is what Jihoon is, too.

 

 

 

 

 

“I’m home,” comes Soonyoung voices and it gives Jihoon life.

“Welcome home,” he kisses his nose, “How was your class? Sorry, I left early. I have night classes later.”

“That’s okay, angel.”

That nickname still brings shivers down his spine and memories from years ago washes over him. Soonyoung wraps his arms around his waist and pulls him closer. Jihoon squints his eyes.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks.

“Just wondering why.”

“Why what?”

“Why would you choose me over immortality and Heaven?”

Jihoon pouts. “It’s been years, Soonyoungie—”

“I know, I know,” he laughs, “But it’s just like— I just can’t believe you would choose me, you know?”

The other brings a hand to cup his cheek. “I would choose you, over and over and over again. Do you want to know why?”

Soonyoung smiles and leans closer to bring their foreheads to touch. “Why?”

“Because I love you.”

“I love you, too. So, so much. Oh, I just remembered something,” Soonyoung says excitedly, “Mr. Kim told us another Greek myth today.”

“What is it about this time?”

“Icarus. The boy who’s wings melted because he flew too near to the Sun.”

“That sounds eerily similar,” Jihoon nudges his ribs.

“It does, doesn’t it?”

“Are you implying that you’re the Sun and I’m Icarus?”

“No,” Soonyoung pinches his cheeks. “Because you’ll never fall. And even if you did, I’ll catch you.”

 

 

 

 

 

“What is heaven?” Soonyoung asks one day when they’re out in the balcony. He’s trying to figure out a Chemistry formula and Jihoon is writing down his Literature notes.

He stops writing and looks at Soonyoung, smiling mischievously.

 _He remembers this question_ , Jihoon smiles back.

“Heaven is a place on Earth with you.”

 

 

(Soonyoung greets the moon and stars every night and Jihoon greets them, too. The moon and stars greet them back—always with a smile and a good night kiss and Jihoon is reminded of the fact that stars can be seen from Earth.)

**Author's Note:**

> stan ikon


End file.
